


Hounds of Winter

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Foreshadowing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Loss of Trust, Markyong are brothers, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, Violence, at least i hope so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I never understood why people fear blood,” Donghyuck mused, drawing swirls on the back of his hand almost mindlessly, before reaching over to grab some tissues. “It’s a powerful thing, really.”Mark was alone until he was not.Donghyuck was a blessing until he was not.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 31
Kudos: 51
Collections: Challenge #2 — tricks; treats; and terrors





	Hounds of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> A little gift during a month of fear

Years had passed since the last time he saw the cane, metallic with brown crusts of his dried blood, but Mark still felt broken. He felt the weight of a broken family and invisible hands pushing against his shoulders as if they could make him collapse like the broken doll he was.

Broken, like a puppet with cut strings. No one wants to sit next to a boy with scars on his face and eyes as soulless as the dolls he keeps in his room -for luck, Taeyong had always reminded him. Mark thinks his life had been voodooed the moment he was born. That’s what his father used to say ( _ scream _ ) when he was caught playing with the straw filled toys.

“You’re Mark, aren’t you?”

His eyes looked up to meet amber irises, bright and curious as the owner settled himself at the side of the table. No one had ever approached him before, let alone someone who looked like they belonged among the paddy fields and corn mazes. Mark had never seen the boy in school, yet his presence was blinding. Captivating.

“My brother is a florist. The one you always greet on your way to school!. He said you can come over to our home when you feel like your own isn’t worth going back to,” the boy continued. There was something strange in the way he spoke - a slight lilt perhaps? - but it passed him like a breeze. 

Someone is  _ seeing _ him... _ noticing _ him

“I’m Lee Donghyuck”

A hand that took his own solid, grounding him after months of feeling as if his soul were a balloon tethered to his body, as light as helium. Such was his joy that he did not return home that evening, the sun long replaced by the inferior when he finally knocked on the door to Taeyong’s face, eyes red rimmed collar damp.

He had received a scolding, no less expected, but his mind wandered to the comfortable home behind the flower shop where he had braided stems into bracelets and Doyoung had served him lotus tea. Donghyuck’s brother had said that he would always be welcome as long as  _ you would kindly stay over for a cup of herbal tea? _

Mark had kindly agreed.

Days shifted strangely after that, a routine far more fulfilling than he had had before. Donghyuck took up most of his time, and Mark had eventually quit the basketball team he had long loved with such abruptness that it had teachers begging him to rejoin. He never did. 

They also did crazy things, things that filled him with overwhelming joy such as the days they would hang out in the cooking club as Donghyuck gently guided the knife in his hand, giggling when the blade accidentally sliced his finger.

“I never understood why people fear blood,” Donghyuck mused, drawing swirls on the back of his hand, almost mindlessly, before reaching over to grab some tissues. “It’s a powerful thing, really.”

Sometimes, they’d go through the library near Donghyuck’s room, pull out worn out books and behind a single candle. There were stars caved onto the wooden table, and Mark wondered how free of a child Donghyuck had been. Mark had never read poetry before, much less attempted to do so in a language he did not recognize.

But they had fun, nevertheless.

In fact, they managed to go through a whole page without bursting into laughter, the happiness erupting in him leaving behind a post-giggling daze. Night came faster the more days he spent there. Not enough time, really. He loved hanging out with the sunkissed boy with chestnut hair and alluring eyes.

_ “Would you be kind enough to come over for breakfast?” _ The male who adorned a quiet smile and kind eyes behind strands of jet black had become somewhat of a grounding factor in Mark’s life. There were few who gave the same comforting aura Doyoung could emit upon opening his mouth. 

Mark kindly accepted the offer.

On the other hand, Taeyong wasn’t pleased. 

“You’ve been skipping school, breaking into club rooms during the evening and coming home late. Tell me what’s been going on with you, Mark Lee!”

Taeyong wouldn’t understand. He never did. Unlike himself who went to school and had to mingle around in an unaccepting community, Taeyong had remained homebound since they left the godforsaken house of their parents.

He wouldn’t understand how doing all that was making him feel better, happier even! The demons in his head were quiet! But Taeyong wouldn’t let that happen. He’d make sure they would come back like the scary dolls that mother placed in his room to  _ look after him _ , reappearing even when his father had burned them to ashes.

When he told Doyoung, the latter had laughed heartily as if it were a humorous joke told in the late morning. 

“Taeyong has always been the worrier, I have to admit. He’s one of the people who’d chastise me for starting a flower shop instead of aiming for a better job. But this is happiness, isn’t it? This is  _ love _ .It’s what makes us stay  _ loyal _ to what brings us  _ joy _ .”

The younger between them two looked up from his hands. “He’s protective...ever since we left that abusive household he can’t seem to grasp the normalcy, as if everything is still a threat.”

“You left your mother?” Doyoung asked aloud before catching himself. “And father? That is...unfortunate. Taeyong would have told”

Mark blinked. “You know -”

_ “Would you kindly go help Donghyuck cut up the fruits _ ?” Doyoung interrupted, a warm smile on his face. “I think it would be great if we sent your hyung some food!”

Mark kindly offers his help to the younger boy who fed him some watermelon before helping him out with the knife. Despite the many visits, he had never sent anything back. Donghyuck sang to himself, playfully urging Mark to follow the rhyming lyrics and odd melody as they did a little jig.

Donghyuck chuckled lowly. “Your hyung will love this!”

That’s what they thought.

The house had been dark when he entered, as it always was when night came and Taeyong buried himself under heaps of blankets. Upon the door opening, there was a thud before feet ran against the floor to reach him. Shrouded with shadows,it was evident how worried Taeyong had been - which was strange considering this had become a daily thing.

“I brought over some food.” Mark said in the most blatant tone he could muster, handing over the oval shaped container. His brother blearily reached for it before pulling open the lid -

And screamed bloody murder.

Startled at the sound, Mark jumped back and pressed himself against the door as Taeyong dropped the container of fruits, spilling it onto the floor. Blindly, he reached over by the door frame to flick on the lights. Mark squinted as he was momentarily blinded, startling again when Taeyong cried out behind cupped hands.

“What on earth has gotten to you!” Taeyong whispered, his voice trembling as his gaze flickered between the fallen fruit and his brother. “What kind of cult are you part of! You said you were visiting a friend!”

Enraged at the mess and waste of effort, Mark advanced forward to poke his finger at Taeyong’s chest, gaze hard and tone harsh as he yelled “What’s wrong with you! Is it so wrong for me to bring you back something good enough to eat? I’ve been sick and tired of your crazy antics for the past year, and this is what I get after I tolerated you this far into my life!”

It was strange to be overcome by anger, even more so when he could feel the stickiness of unwashed fruit juice on his cheeks and fingers, Donghyuck claiming that it would give him a fruity scent. Taeyong was bewildered, clutching at the edge of the table behind him until his knuckles turned white.

“IT’S JUST FRUIT, HYUNG!”

The outburst changed something in Taeyoung’s eyes, a look of confusion before it was replaced by horror. Both expressions meant nothing to Mark as he stormed towards the stairs, feeling icky and ready for a shower. 

“What do you see, Mark?” Taeyong’s voice was soft, tender even when he wasn’t looking at the younger. “On the floor,on your face. What do you see?”

Mark had long wanted to understand the peculiar way his hyung’s mind worked, but now he felt like giving up as he spoke hauntingly “I cut up the fruits for you, hyung. The only thing that’s on my face might be the fruit juice. Pull yourself together, hyung. I don’t want to live with a lunatic.”

The next day, he had told Doyoung what had happened in which the other had patted his back soothingly before kissing his forehead, calming his raging thoughts and uneasy emotions. “Trauma does terrible things to the mind, young one. Better we  _ stay away  _ from such people and start  _ anew _ . I think it’s better if we stay  _ together _ , right?  _ Would you kindly - _

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


He should have sensed it earlier. He could have stopped it earlier.

Taeyong had long thrown aside the old habits implemented by his mother, ones including setting up dolls and talismans. He had claimed them useless, spoken when he had finally pulled Mark out of that home of theirs and into a world of new normalcy, one he had struggled to fit into.

His mother had been one of the Fey, said so herself when she pulled him aside one Christmas morning. He had been 7, and bore the strange stark white hair of his mother. Folk blood couldn’t mix, so when she had married a human, he had been born Fey and Mark, a full human.

But Taeyong did not take it easily, disregarding his biology and eventually hating his connections with voodoo dolls and whispering plants. He had taken numbing medicine ever since they moved houses, falling into a dream-like state as he carried on doing normal human activities in order to ease Mark away from their strange past.

But then Mark had started coming home late.

A friend Taeyong had never seen, a shop that he had never passed by. In his sedated state, he had not been able to do the easy math, unable to string two and two together. He had been careless, reckless as he allowed the pixie magic to seep into their home until it was too late.

Mark had fallen too deep, too far as he came back each day with more peculiar stories, speaking in harsh tones and an unfamiliar lilt. All the time, Taeyong’s inner faerie had nudged at his mind, telling him something was  _ wrong. _

_ It was too late. _

His brother, his pure untainted  _ human  _ brother had brought home a container filled with cut up carcasses, blood spilling onto the floor and even more so streaking against Mark’s pale cheeks and dripping from him lips, talking nonsense as he called the flesh  _ fruit  _ and screamed at him when he had never done so before.  _ That wasn’t his Mark. _

And he knew the exact person responsible for it.

Finding a pixie’s den was as easy as finding a white rose among red ones. A doll in his hand and cold iron in his pocket, Taeyong ran to the nearest essence of magic he could track which led him to a flower shop squeezed between two bakeries. The trail where Mark went to school, an open trap.

“Mother, if you’re watching over me, lend me your strength,” he whispered before barging in, knowing very well pixies didn’t lock their doors. The inside was a normal flower shop, lined with greenery which he marched past to reach the back doors to the house.

The door swung open upon contact with his skin, and the first thing he saw was Doyoung sitting atop a kitchen counter, casually pampering a sunflower in a pot.

“Where’s my brother, you godforsaken creature!” Taeyong seethed, stopping a few meters away from the younger boy who merely scoffed at his antics. “Doyoung, this isn’t a game. You purposely chose my brother, didn’t you?”

Doyoung turned around, hanging his feet off the edge with a dark smile. “I don’t choose my prey, Taeyoung. Besides, I thought you already protected your little human brother from any  _ supernatural  _ influence. Apparently not.”

“You knew his blood made him vulnerable to your magic,” he countered, anger boiling at the pit of his stomach. “Give him back, Doyoung, or I’ll make your brother suffer.”

Doyoung raised his eyebrows pleasantly. “What brother?”

On cue, there was a pattering of feet as Mark ran down the stairs, laughing loudly while casting glances behind him. When he looked at Doyoung, it was as if Taeyong’s existence was erased. He didn’t even cast a glance.

Taeyong held in a broken noise.

“Donghyuck told me you were calling!” Mark panted, resting his hand on the kitchen counter. “Didn’t you?”

He looked beside him...at thin air. Taeyong looked between Mark’s flushed face and Doyoung’s smug grin, the gears in his head turning. That was it, wasn’t it?

Donghyuck never existed. He was an illusion Doyoung had created to get Mark to do things needed in order to -

“Mark, darling” the pixie called, prompting the boy to look over, his eyes glazed over. “ _ Would you kindly kill your brother for me?” _

His chest constricted as Mark’s gaze passed between someone who didn’t exist to Taeyong, a familiar cold glint in his eyes. A flash of silver caught his eye before he stumbled back, a coldness settling on his skin as he tried (failed) to turn the door knob.

_ “Yes, hyung” _ Mark kindly agreed, advancing with the most tender of smiles on his face. 

“Mark, Mark it’s me!” Taeyong tried to move, finding himself bound by Doyoung’s magic that pushed him against the door. “Mark! Please!”

His stomach caved in as the blade rested against the fabric in his shirt. The doll in his hand crumbled to dust as Mark cupped his cheek with one hand, gazing lovingly into his eyes as the edges of his fingers caressed his skin. He saw the last of Mark fade from his brother's eyes, replaced by someone Taeyong couldn’t recognize.

_ That’s not my Mark _

“I still love you,” Taeyong promised to that last part of Mark, loving him even when the pain ripped his stomach apart and took his breath away. Even when he saw his own life force splatter and feel his insides empty out and collect at his feet. 

Even when his vision went white and his body slumped to the ground.

  
  
  


-

  
  


Pixies live off of chaos, inhaling the scent of danger and absorbing grief. Doyoung had long wondered if it was fate that had him watching Mark cut open his brother when years ago, that was him. Every pixie needed a vessel, a human to cause strife in the human world where they were hidden by glamour.

In replacement for the demons in his head, Mark had succumbed to the demons right in front of him.

_ “Mark, would you kindly hide the body?”  _ he called, grinning when Mark -with his face dripping with blood and hair damp - shoved back the organs into the broken body. Perhaps he would be able to keep him longer than the last one.

Mark could probably last a decade or so.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you catch on the hints? Did you realize what was happening before it happened?  
> Or were you just as lost and oblivious as our dear protagonist?  
> Would you kindly leave comments?  
> Happy Halloween :)
> 
>   
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Skydancer_8?s=09) | [CC](https://curiouscat.me/Skydancer_8)


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